#freddy and the robot

[whumpinggrounds]

So, This Is Christmas

Early Freddy and T! A bit late but it’s a Christmas comfort special ;)

CW: nothing! This is fluff.

Even before Freddy started working with T, his salary was ridiculous. Now, with the bonuses, and the overtime, and the extra that Granger calls discretion pay…

Well, now, looking at his bank account makes Freddy feel slightly sick.

He sends gifts to his friends, first. Some of the others are in software, making just as much as he does, but then there are the teachers, and the mechanical engineers, and those who majored in psychology and are still deciding what they want to do with it. It’s harder than Freddy expects, finding a balance between getting something nice and not spending so much that they’ll be uncomfortable, and at the end of it, Freddy still has too much left in his bank account. He scrolls through donation posts and uses up a good chunk of change that way, but it’s not what he really wants to do.

Like magnets, Freddy’s eyes are drawn to the bag he carried home from the mall last week. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

But he’s already picking up his phone.

_

It’s Christmas morning, and Freddy is in the basement of his work. He could’ve gone to visit any number of friends, especially the childhood buddies who are more like family, but instead he’s here. The bag dangles from his hand, and Freddy ignores the sweatiness of his palms, the dampness across his forehead. He shouldn’t be nervous. He has no real reason to be nervous.

He’s nervous anyway.

The elevator shudders and creaks on its downward path, and Freddy shivers as the air grows colder. It may not snow here, but underground, he feels something like a winter chill. It’s doesn’t make anything feel festive, in a world of cement and spotless white walls. It’s just depressing. Freddy grips his bag tighter as he steps out of the elevator doors.

T is in his room when Freddy finds him, lying on his back with his eyes shut. Unsure if he’s asleep, Freddy hovers in the doorway, biting his lip. He’s just decided to set the bag down and maybe come back tomorrow when T speaks.

“Am I needed today?”

“Uh…what?”

“I was told that the team would be gone for a period of ten days, beginning on the twenty-third of December and ending on the second of January.” Now T sits up, the movement fluid and graceful, nothing wasted. He regards Freddy with a steady, brown-grey gaze. “Has that changed?”

“Um…no.”

It’s hard to describe what exactly changes when T hears that news. Freddy has been paying so much more attention to body language, to emotion, and so he knows to look for the shoulder slump, the downcast eyes, the downturned mouth. The relaxation of muscles that spells disappointment – Freddy doesn’t see it in T, but knows that it’s there nonetheless.

“I, um. Came to visit.” He cracks an awkward smile, and T, looking up at him, mirrors it cautiously. “I…I brought you something.”

The look on T’s face is new. It’s a tentative kind of confusion, totally unlike the professional inquisitiveness T shows when he doesn’t understand a command. This is something newer, more vulnerable. They’re both breaking new ground.

“I, um. Look, I…” Freddy sighs. “It’s Christmas, you know? I got you something.”

“For…Christmas?”

“Yeah. Sorry, do you, uh…know what that is?”

“Yes.” Freddy watches T’s face for emotion, but none shows. “I’m familiar with most major holidays. It was part of my basic education.”

Freddy swallows, wondering what ‘basic education’ means when he had to teach T the meaning of the word pain. “Have you, um…ever…celebrated it?”

The look on T’s face is blank, but Freddy thinks that if the man in front of him were only a little bolder, he might call Freddy an idiot to his face. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

“Freddy,” Freddy corrects gently. “Not sir, just…Freddy.”

T dips his head. “Freddy.”

The silence stretches, and finally Freddy can’t stand it anymore. Even his stupid little offerings have to be better than this endless, unbearable quiet. He reaches into the bag and withdraws the flat, thin package, thrusts it at T.

“I didn’t wrap it. I suck at wrapping things. Sorry.”

T looks at the box in his hands and then back up at Freddy, uncomprehending. Blush now crawling into his ears, Freddy clears his throat.

“It’s a tablet? It, um. I had to disable your, uh, Internet access. I’m sorry. Granger wouldn’t have approved it otherwise.”

Slowly, T nods, but Freddy can tell he still doesn’t know what’s going on. He takes a deep breath and makes himself blow it back out before he responds. This isn’t that bad. It’s just a conversation with…with…

A friend.

“So, it’s a, uh, screen thing. You can watch stuff on it? Or read. I downloaded some books and movies for you – a little of everything, and then when you, um, when you’re done, you can tell me what you like and I’ll get more of that?”

T looks down at the flat glass rectangle in his hands, and back up at Freddy. He looks blank, still, but now it’s from the shock.

“Here, I’ll-” Freddy sits down next to T and reaches across him for the tablet. Then he freezes, feeling the press of their legs together, his body so close to T’s. “Sorry. Sorry, uh, is this…okay?”

“Yes, Freddy, it’s fine.” T’s voice is smooth, steady. Their proximity doesn’t seem to affect him at all. “What were you going to show me?”

“Um – here.” Freddy clicks the tablet on. He shows T where he can watch movies, TV, or read books. He shows T how to write himself notes, or record voice memos, or draw in a rainbow of colors. He takes T through every function of this tablet – everything that doesn’t require Internet, that is – and never once does he worry about the price tag on the underside of the box the thing came in, the way he poured half of a bonus into the most expensive tablet he could buy.

Next to him, T’s expression doesn’t change. His breathing remains steady, and he doesn’t speak much, except to ask questions about this function or that. Freddy tells himself he doesn’t care whether T likes it; he’s glad he got him something. It’s Christmas, and the guy is sitting in a basement all alone, nothing to entertain him but some old gym equipment in the next room. If he uses the tablet, fine, and if he doesn’t, that’s fine too, and Freddy won’t take it personally, he won’t –

When T finally meets Freddy’s eyes, after they’ve gone through every app on the brand-new device, there’s a pause. Freddy watches T’s throat bob as he swallows.

“Thank you,” T tells him, and Freddy realizes with a funny lifting feeling in his chest that he doesn’t care about smiles or laughter or clapping hands, any outward expression of joy. T, overcome, looks just like this, and that is more than enough for Freddy.

“Merry Christmas.”

@stab-the-son-of-a, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @redwingedwhump, @ocean-blue-whump, @impalasexual, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @sadcatjae, @whump-cravings, @kawhump, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @winedark-whump, @whumpingmydarlings, @maracujatangerine​

[chloesimaginationthings]

These clown animatronics in FNAF wild as hell..

[beausprouts]

Fetch moment 🐶🐶🐶💥💥💥💥💥

[jojo-schmo]

In this house, we cherish Helpy. We thank him for his hard work and pat his head and give him all the candy that he wants because is a good and lovable little cub!!

[spoopy-arcade]

Imagine

If cassie and roxy swap places like a swap au ?

Were cassie is the animatronics wolf

And

Were Roxy / Roxanne is a human?

OK BUT HEAR ME OUT. Bunny Cassie!!

[nebula-remnants]

IM ALIVE!!

what’s up guys I have another au to show you, except this time it’s a joint project im working on with @alynwrench

ANYWAYS HERES A DESIGN WE HAVE FOR MOON

Sun’s design:

[rolledupsocks3]

Ruin Roxanne Wolf

Made this around when the fnaf dlc was first announced

[mychapel-004]

FNAF SPOILERS! SCROLL! TALKING ABOUT THE SPRINGLOCK SCENE!

i’ve seen so many people discussing the springlock scene in both negative and positive ways and i think it brings up really cool points about how matthew played that scene and balanced fan expectations with his own characterisation.

i think the discussions around this movie have rlly exposed the disconnect between fanon and canon in fnaf, especially talking abt the core games in isolation, bc frankly in the game universe (ignoring the books) we get Very Little characterisation for William other than the obvious, but Matthew managed to add so much in the way he talks and his body language.

in the reveal scene, we see afton at arguably his peak. in his first scene, he comes off as somewhat demeaning and judgemental until he recognises mike’s name, at which point he seems to have this nervous energy, rushing to cover it up but stumbling slightly, his reaction to the tables being turned even slightly is massive.

this is a man who committed multiple mrdrs in essentially broad daylight, hid the bodies in the most obvious place, and still got away with it, and then kept the crime scene as a trophy of his actions, and an ongoing prison sentence for his victims. he has been in complete control for decades, and is confident that he can deal with any kind of threat quickly. his confidence in his reveal is palpable

it changes when vanessa shoots him. the whole parallel with vanessa and the animatronics is hugely interesting too- how william refers to the animatronics almost endearingly as “kids” when he wants them to obey, how both vanny and the animatronics have an unearned loyalty to him, almost a pseudo-adoption through what he did to them, taking them from their parents and keeping them under his thumb, forever stuck as naive, forgiving, obedient children. vanessa breaking from that control shakes him, but the mask slips back into place almost immediately.

then, he’s outsmarted by the brother of one of his victims, and the child he planned to end next. his pseudo-children turn on him and he can no longer manipulate his appearance or shed his skin to escape. he explodes on them, and his language is incredibly telling that he is being dishonest.

he calls them small, trying to belittle them into submission, even though they are ten feet tall metal animatronics powered by rage. he is grasping at straws to regain control, and failing miserably.

finally, the springlocks go off. the locks in the movie look more like a ribcage, so the first two likely puncture his lungs. they’re slow, and painful, but he doesn’t scream or beg or sob. he grunts and groans, gritting his teeth and only letting out sounds of pain that sound almost involuntary. there is no way in hell he would visibly let himself show weakness or pain in front of these creatures that he believes he has control over. he isn’t brought to his knees until there are eight metal spikes embedded in his abdomen. he doesn’t let the mask fall for even a second, until he literally PUTS THE ACTUAL MASK ON and finally collapses. even then, he’s fighting for consciousness, twitching and writhing with no control over his body. william afton thrives on control, and his soul will not rest until he gets it back.

it’s why he keeps the pizzeria- he always comes back. he can’t help but return to the scene of the crime, putting on his old costume, continuing his killings. he revels in being a constant threat on the horizon. and now, he knows he is going to die, and he knows the suit will bring him back, and noone will be able to get rid of him then. so he puts the mask back on, and waits.

in terms of the sfx- they’re pretty accurate. with stab wounds, you need to leave the knife in the wound as long as possible for best chance of survival, as it stops the blood from escaping. in terms of the springlocks, there wouldn’t be copious amounts of blood as the locks are keeping the wounds filled- which is good because it means a slower, more painful death.

[just-bee-lieve]

the funeral

[latehere]

coming back with more slop

[snappl3]

A child born of agony

[whumpinggrounds]

Nonstandard Response

The events that inspired this and later, this

CW: male whumpee, male whumper, nonhuman whumpee, threats, hitting, references to past abuse, power dynamics, team whump

Wagner is treating Freddy differently. The first few days, T isn’t sure. Freddy hasn’t mentioned it, and T isn’t the best at judging relationships, the way people interact with each other. He resorts to data. It’s reliable, familiar, something that he’s an expert in. Usually, T has to tune out endless streams of data, all the extra that’s coded into him. Now, finally, he has a use for it.

Wagner’s words and sentences are thirty percent shorter when he speaks to Freddy. His voice is higher and has a more nasal quality. Mocking, T has heard it called. Wagner bumps into Freddy with two hundred percent more frequency than any other member of the team, and he never apologizes when he does it. As soon as he starts paying attention, T sees, hears, analyzes these things automatically. Unconsciously. Data sets and tables begin to tabulate in his head.

After two days of watching, he turns his attention to Freddy. Freddy’s voice is lower when he speaks to Wagner. He speaks to him twenty-eight percent less than the other members of the team. And Freddy’s sentences are forty percent shorter when he speaks to Wagner, as compared to the rest of the team.

It’s neither here nor there, but as he’s calculating results, T notes that Freddy spends the highest percentage of time talking to him. Twelve percent more than any other member of the team. It’s true the other way around too – no one spends as much time talking to T as Freddy does, not by a long shot.

And though it’s easy, effortless, and automatic as a thought, T doesn’t run the numbers on how much he talks to Freddy. He knows, already, that it’s much more than he wants to think about.

The point is that Wagner is treating Freddy worse, and T doesn’t know why. He’s just about resolved to ask Freddy about it – out of curiosity, no other reason. Then, though, Wagner gets in the way, and he forces T’s hand.

It’s just the three of them in T’s room. He’s been running mazes all day, and now Wagner is here for final data collection and Freddy is here…here just because. T ends most of his days with Freddy, lately. Neither of them talks about why.

With the hostile presence of Wagner in the room, they don’t speak. It’s mostly Wagner ordering Freddy around as he downloads data from the port in T’s arm and the port in his chest and the port in the back of his neck, right at the base of his spine. “It’s so fucking annoying that there are three of these,” he gripes, more to himself than anyone else. “We need to make this universal. And hook up Bluetooth.”

Neither Freddy nor T respond to that, but then, they’re not supposed to. Wagner is angry with Freddy, apparently, and to this particular tech, T is as inanimate as the tablet screen where the data uploads.

Or, today, actually, fails to upload. An error messages flashes on screen, showing that the port in T’s chest has failed its job for the third time. It’s the oldest part of T’s body hardware, and none of them are surprised it’s failing. Least of all T – he’s been feeling creaks, hiccups, little electrical jolts for months. The whole lung problem was example enough. He’s in desperate need of a full firmware and software upgrade, the thought of which makes him shiver.

Wagner doesn’t take the time to consider the vast implications of the failed data upload. Instead, he jerks the cord out of T’s chest so fast T gasps. “Goddammit!”

“Hey!” Freddy whips around from whatever he’s doing, coiling up cords or some other inane, time-consuming housekeeping task that’s far below his paygrade. “Be careful!”

It’s fine, T wants to tell him. The cord ripping out makes the port jerk unpleasantly in his chest. The pull translates across his skin and also deeper, jolting wires that shift organic matter, or even connect directly to it. The entire process feels weird and sickening and wrong, and not a little painful. But it is fine. Nothing is damaged.

There’s no time to tell Freddy that, because Wagner is already whirling on him, eyes alight, lip pulled back in a snarl. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, asshole. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing.” He throws the tablet down on T’s cot and takes a step forward, thrusting his chest into Freddy’s space. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Jesus, man, back off-”

Wagner shoves him, hard. “I said, don’t tell me what to do!”

He draws his hand back, like he’s going to hit Freddy. And Freddy, Freddy flinches, like he knows what’s coming. Like this has happened before.

And T is in motion. He’s in motion before he knows what’s going on, the kind of automatic movement that’s usually prompted by electric pulses from Dr. Pool, or lines of code written by Layla. He stands and strides forward and he catches Wagner’s wrist in his hand and holds it in a grip like iron. All of it fluid, immediate, and breathtakingly fast.

From over Wagner’s shoulder, Freddy’s wide eyes fix on T. He looks more upset than he did before, and inside T, that feels wrong.

Watching Wagner hit Freddy would’ve felt more wrong.

“What the fuck-” Wagner tries to jerk his arm away and fails, “-are you doing to me, robot? What the hell?”

T’s voice, when it comes, is monotone. His eyes when Wagner scans them, furious, are blank. “Staff are not permitted to act violently towards each other excepting special permission circumstances. Directive eight-four-nine-two-alpha-”

“Okay, okay, shut up.” Wagner pulls away again, and once again, T’s iron fingers fail to release him. Wagner grinds his teeth and glares. “T, let me go.”

His fingers don’t unlock easily, but T lets him go. Wagner is calmer now. Moving slower again. He rubs his wrist as though it’s hurt, although T feels certain he didn’t squeeze that hard. Shouldering Freddy out of the way, Wagner stalks toward the door. “Finish the fucking upload yourself,” he snaps, without turning around, and slams the door as hard as he can as he leaves.

Still facing T, Freddy jumps when the door hits the frame. He’s tense, and T can tell from the pulse jumping in his throat that his heart rate has accelerated. “You’re nervous.”

“Huh?”

“Accelerated pulse rate. Muscle tension. Feelings of anxiety as measured by facial expression. Outsize reaction to stimulus.” T lists the symptoms and watches understanding dawn on Freddy’s face. “You told me that means someone is nervous.”

The smile on Freddy’s face is forced. “Yeah. Yeah, T, I, uh, I guess I am nervous. I…Wagner…is just…I don’t like when people get angry like that. I really…really don’t like when people get violent.”

T feels his own heart rate accelerate. “Has Wagner been violent with you before?”

There are symptoms of something besides nervousness taking place in the body. T ignores them, focuses on Freddy, on his answer.

“It’s more about other people than it is Wagner.” Freddy shrugs, and T doesn’t miss the way he’s dodging the question. “And this time, I was also nervous…I was also nervous…” He lets his breath out in a big sigh. Shakes his head. “T, I don’t think you should, um, get involved like that. I don’t want Wagner to take his anger out on you.”

“I’m designed to perform under stress,” T points out. “You…” he feels a foreign warmth in his cheeks. “You aren’t.”

At that, Freddy finally laughs. T likes the sound, and the way Freddy tips his head back. He likes the way Freddy’s hair flops in his face, and the way he shakes his head, and the way he sits next to T to plug a cord into his chest port.

“I’m going to regret asking this,” he mutters, so quietly that T hardly hears him.

“Then don’t ask.”

“What?” Freddy glances up, startled, at T. Then his face cracks open in a wide, disbelieving grin. “You’re very literal, you know that?”

“Yes?”

“All right.” Freddy leans in close as he plugs the cord into T’s chest port. Closer than he needs to, so he can whisper, quiet as can be, words the cameras on the walls won’t pick up. “Is there actually a protocol – a program – the one you were talking about, to Wagner? To keep him from hurting me?” He hangs there for a moment, though he has no reason to, next to T’s ear. “Sign the answer. Don’t…don’t say it out loud.”

T complies. He keeps his eyes fixed on Freddy’s face, because he wants to see the tech’s expression when he signs No.

  @whumptober, @whumptober-archive

@stab-the-son-of-a, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @redwingedwhump, @ocean-blue-whump, @impalasexual, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @sadcatjae, @whump-cravings, @kawhump, @pumpkin-spice-whump, @winedark-whump, @whumpingmydarlings, @maracujatangerine​

[chloesimaginationthings]

IDK what William Afton expected to happen in FNAF..

[doctorsiren]

Today’s doodles while at work :)

Don’t ask why Clara is taller than William in the second picture (I drew him first and I liked how he looked and I didn’t wanna change how he was looking)

[razzzar]

[7-ferrets-in-a-coat]

Just like in the game

Highly unpolished but tbh i dont feel like poishing rn LOL